Who Are The Best Artists To Fix A 'Bad Trap' Mix?

If the warning label could be written in red letters, it would. I'm not a soft erotic writer, so you shouldn't be a soft reader. This is a house of 50 Shades Darker Steamy Romance Compilation. ALL your taboos and kinks will be fulfilled in these 1k short stories. First five stories. 1 Marry Your Daddy & Be Your Stepmom: When the thoughts, words, and touch of your boyfriend's dad gives you real orgasms, sinning is just as sweet. 2 My Gangster Masters: Though married, you're sent to the BDSM club to hunt the notorious triplet criminals. The operation is over, but your body still aches to submit to them one more time. 3 The Church Boy Is Gay: He's more innocent than a nerd. Haven't impregnated any girl. So you make him your role model until you're trapped in a room with him and the lights go off. 4 Creampied in a crowded subway: What’s discomfort in a crowded subway when you can have a stranger’s big black cock slide beneath your dress and rub your pussy till you're wet and dripping? It gets spicier, he slips into your right cotton panties and creampies you. And when you wear jeans, his huge palm breaks your button, goes down below, rubbing your clit and finger-fucking you till you become his all your subway journey. Forever. 5 My Masked Psycho: You have a fetish for masked men, and you're just the kind of lady he preys on. Others: Beastly Alpha. Voyeurism. You're a slave to the hot cell's Don and his Capos in a prison break. Stuck and fucked. The Bulgar's cock is your new obsession. Naked stranger in the elevator. Flash your goodies. Your maid and plumber are your new toys. Sex interviews… ***** Add to library let's hit this rocky road.

My name is Elle. I am a beta female, but I live like an omega. Sometimes I don't even know what's better for me. I hoped that when I turned 18 my life would change. But everything got worse. At the age of 18, every werewolf knows his wolf. My wolf did not appear. In the last year I was simply wolfless. My mate rejected me and he is my the biggest nightmare. But it is said that hope dies last, so until the last moment of my life I will believe that something good is prepared for me in this world as well. Like I said, I'm Elle Parker. In the eyes of some, the most insignificant omega. But is that really the case? QUICK PREVIEW I would like to believe that this is possible. Moon Goddess ... can I get my rejection back? Please... I take a deep breath, look up to the sky and hopefully say: "I alpha Brandon Taylor take back my rejection and accept you Elle Parker as my mate, as my luna, as anythig you want to be in my life. I TAKE IT BACK!" Then I fall to my knees crying. I feel a huge pain in my chest that seems to suffocate me, I lie down on the ground and close my eyes feeling how I slowly start to faint but not before hearing just like in a dream a warm and tender voice. "I, Moon Goddess, accept your request!"

Claire is a typical nerd at school but a club DJ and a performer during weekends. She has been bullied since she started school with a particular girl named Samantha, their academy's Queen Bee and Head Cheerleader. But little did Claire know that her bully, whom she hates the most, feels something special for her since the first time they met.

I was laid off. Having reached middle age and lacking any special skills, I could only work as a warehouse manager in a private company. On the first day of work, I saw a large, dusty object in the corner. An imported precision instrument worth four million dollars sat there as scrap metal. My new colleague scoffed. "Stop looking. The boss spent a fortune on it. Even ten experts couldn't handle it. It's just a decoration." I walked up and touched the familiar body of the machine. "I can fix this." The entire workshop fell silent. My boss came upon hearing the news. He looked at me with contempt. "If you can fix it, I'll give you half of my shares. If not, you'll pay with your life."

I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.

When Maya walks away from Alvarez, she thinks she’s freeing herself from a toxic love. But love doesn’t die easily. Alvarez refuses to let go, torn between rage and longing, while a new man steps into Maya’s life — calm, patient, everything Alvarez never was. Caught between memory and possibility, Maya must face the truth: can broken love be fixed, or is it better left behind?